


I Can't Offer You a Rescue (I can tell you what I'd do)

by WeirdItalianPlumber



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 04:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12051414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdItalianPlumber/pseuds/WeirdItalianPlumber
Summary: Dee's having a bad day. Charlie tries to help.





	I Can't Offer You a Rescue (I can tell you what I'd do)

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SunnyRarePairs](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SunnyRarePairs) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
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> Dee is upset. She's having one of those weeks where nothing goes as it should. When Mac/Dennis/Franks makes the type of remark she would usually shrug off, it's the last straw, and she bursts out crying. Charlie comforts her in his typical weirdo-Charlie fashion. Can lead to romance, but pre-het is also welcome. Would love it if this ended with both of them striking a deal to become more of an unified front against the others' antics.
> 
> \-------------  
> There's not much to say.  
> Title comes from Walking Disasters by The Wombats

Dee slows to a stop when she hears footsteps pounding behind her. She knows who it is without looking. Charlie. She waits for him to catch up. Dee rubs at her eyes, trying to stop the tears, deciding it's worth the inevitable smeared mascara. 

They stare at each other, before Charlie breaks the silence. "If it makes you feel any better, I think you scared them."  

"Great," Dee sniffles, "I scare them more crying than when I'm trying to intimidate those assholes." She leans against the brick wall, sliding down to the concrete, knees folding against her chest. 

Charlie follows suit, sitting close. "Yeah, well, I don't think it's anything they've really seen before.”  

"Is it, uh, a... girl time thing?" he asks, eyes shifting to the ground. She should be mad at him for blaming that, but it seems to be with good intentions, and this is pretty unusual for her. 

"Ugh, no. It's just, you can only take so much shit, you know? And I've had a lot of it this week." 

Charlie places a hand on her knee. It makes Dee feel so embarrassed and vulnerable that she has to resist the urge to shove him away. But he's not pitying her or making a move, he's trying to empathize and comfort. 

"Want to go to the sewer? Might be some cool things in there today," Charlie offers. 

"There's nothing cool in that disgusting sewer," Dee retorts. 

"We can go back to my place. There's like 80 cats in the alley, we can pet some of them. They're pretty cool." He tries again. 

Dee doesn't respond, which is as good as a  _no_. 

“Well, if you don't want to go anywhere, I've got some glue we can huff. There's some spray paint in the basement at Paddy's I can go get.” 

"I'm not huffing any of that, Charlie," She shoots him down in a tone hinting that those forms of getting high are beneath her. 

"I'm trying to help, Dee, but you're not making it easy. You just want to sit here and feel bad for yourself? 'Cause I can go," he responds, patience fading. 

She's already trying to look tough again, not reacting or looking at him. Charlie sighs, irritated, and starts to stand up to leave.  

"Don't- don't go," Dee pleads softly.  

Charlie pauses, considering. He settles back down, and they sit in silence a little longer. He's starting to get bored, but tries to hide it. “Do you want to talk about it or something?” 

She does. But it's easier said than done. 

“I can't get a real boyfriend, never had a real acting job, and am stuck in this stupid bar far the rest of my life. My kind of father still pays my rent. I'm a fucking failure.” 

“Me too, and I'm okay with it.” He smirks a little at the joke.  

It must work some, because he can see her soften a little. She's becoming the Dee he likes best, the one she only is when they're alone. Real. Not putting up a front, or trying to prove anything. 

 “Yeah, but at least you have like, a real talent," she whispers.  

Charlie looks confused.  

“Music, Charlie,” Dee sounds exasperated. “You can look at an instrument and just get it. Do you know how amazing that is? How many people would love to be able to do something like that?”  

“Yeah,” Charlie shrugs like it's not a big deal.  

 _Of course_ , Dee thinks,  _when something's that_ _normal_ _for you_ _, you_ _don't get how_ _incredible it is._  

“Well, you maybe have things other people would want,” he replies, and it's a strange mixture of sadness and competitiveness.  

Dee snorts at the thought, not caring how unattractive the guys would call it. She doesn't even want to be her most days. Why the hell would anyone look at her and think  _I want that_. 

Charlie must sense her doubt, and even though it looks like he wants to disappear, he starts. "It's just little things, you know? But it's... there. Like you're tall," and Dee's ready to glare at him, for starting shit, for following her outside to insult her some more. For building then breaking her trust. He continues, "and you can reach things and don't have to look up at everyone. And words and letters and stuff, you make it look so easy. And nobody acts like you're stupid." 

Dee feels a pit in her stomach, because Charlie doesn't admit that stuff, because this is all getting too real. "You're not stupid, Charlie. You do some  _really_  stupid shit but, you're not."  

He grins at her. They gang never apologizes, but they reached a truce. It's close enough for them. 

She makes one last attempt to wipe her face. Charlie must sense what she's trying, because he reaches out, running a light thumb across her cheekbone. He looks down at the black mark, then wipes it on his jacket. "C'mon, let's go see those cats. They'll make you feel better." 

\------- 

"They're alley cats, Charlie. Do you have any idea how many fleas and diseases they probably have?" Dee complains as they round the corner behind his building. 

"Yeah, well, I've had fleas before," Charlie says, dismissively. "And you've had tapeworm," he states in a tone, telling her not to judge. 

He squats down, reaching an arm out. "We're no different than these cats. Not really." 

She wants to snap at him, that she's better than a goddamn street cat. Better than all this. But she knows it's not true, and accepting that she accepts it is harder than she expected.  

Charlie's sitting comfortably on the dirty pavement, legs crossed, a swarm of cats building around him.  

Dee's brought back to reality, when she realizes just how many cats were headed in their direction. "Shit, Charlie. I thought you were exaggerating on all the cats." It may not actually be 80, but the number seemed to have broken double-digits.  

"I don't lie about cats, Dee. I know a lot about them."  

She's still slightly disgusted at the thought, but there's something pulling her towards the group. She sits down next to Charlie, knees brushing together. She's tempted to scooch away, but somehow it feels rude, and the light touch is calming. He looks happy to share this with someone. 

Charlie must sense that she's uneasy, because he reaches out into the swarm of cats and picks up a large grey one. He places it in her lap, "This is the kitten mitten cat. You'll like him."  

Dee's ready to resist, not planning to touch the cats this much, but he's soft and purring. It's surprisingly comforting, and she can feel the stress from the day begin to fade. "Kitten mittens" she laughs, "my god that was a mess." 

Charlie smiles a genuine smile at her, "But it was fun. I like scheming and doing things with you." 

Dee can feel herself blush, and continues talking, hoping it'll be a distraction. "So, do you actually know all these?" She's petting the cat without realizing it. 

"These two," he scratches a calico behind the ears, and points to an orange and white one, "used to sleep in the sink, until Frank kicked them out and took the fire escape down. So they couldn't get back in." He sounds fondly reminiscent and disappointed. It reminds Dee of how nice things can be when it's just the two of them. What she imagines having a real friend is like. She misses it. 

"Nobody else knows about this. Me visiting the cats. Well, Frank does, but he doesn't really care about anything," Charlie says. He tries to sound casual, but disappointment floods his tone. "Mac and Dennis would just laugh. Give me shit."  

"That's all they ever do to me," Dee says, not sure if she's competing or empathizing. "It's because they have each other and their dynamic duo crap."  

"Maybe we could team up, too. Help each other out when they start being dicks. Because I don't always like laughing at you,” Charlie suggests, looking a little embarrassed. 

“They're not gonna stop. It's always going to be one of us," Dee warns tiredly 

“Maybe it doesn't have to. We’ll back each other up." Confidence is building in his voice. It's infectious, and reminds Dee of when they encouraged each other in def poetry.  

She imagines Mac and Dennis' surprised reactions when she and Charlie defend each other, not falling under their influence. It makes her smile, "Yeah! Let's do it. We'll show 'em. We're good together." She holds her hand out for Charlie to shake, making their agreement official. 

"Hell yeah we are," he grins as he accepts her offer. 

Feeling safe that he would understand, she confesses, "I liked having a cat while it lasted. It was only a few days, but it was nice." 

"Do you want to take someone home?" he asks happily, glancing from Dee to the crowd of felines.  

Dee can sense her answer coming, kicking herself for it, but still unable to stop. She tries to sound bold, but nervousness shows in her voice, "Yeah. You." 

He looks surprised for a moment, then nods, "Okay! Yeah." Charlie looks a little awkward, unsure of how these things work. "So, um, do we just go now? Or..." 

She's ready to go back to her apartment, to get off the ground and away from the early chorus of meows. The desire to hold onto this oddly comforting setting wins out, "No. Let's stay a little longer." 

"Cool, cool. Hey, do you think we could order pizza? 'Cause it's getting kind of late." He smirks a little at the next thought. "And you could at least buy me dinner first." 

Dee tries to look annoyed and inconvenienced, but they both see through it. She reaches out, fluffing his hair, “Fine." 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, Thank You.
> 
> \-------
> 
> I kind of wanted the ending to be as 'innocent' or sexual as you want to interpret.


End file.
